Never Be Enough
by YamiTami
Summary: Sometimes staying away isn't that easy. //DaveHal, instance of a cow//


**Since people are still interested in my fics over here and FFN has fixed a couple (but not near all) of the issues it's been having, I'll start posting my stories here again. This is really against my better judgment and if they screw up so that dashes disappear or the ads somehow get more annoying, then I'm not coming back. It's bad enough they still don't allow tildies for no apparent reason.**

**I'm posting this in chapter one of all my stories so everyone knows where I can be found. See my profile for the link to my homepage.**

-----------------------------------

_Nothing is black and white on the battlefield, anyone could be the greatest threat to your life, anyone could be your greatest asset._ These things were given to the soldier as truths, which they were, and it had saved his life on more than one occasion. Many would make the mistake of discounting the woman or the child and end up with a grenade down their throat, but Solid Snake never had that problem. He simply didn't care, didn't register gender or race or sexual preference as weakness or as strength. It was a big part of what made him such an effective weapon, and it had saved his life on more than one occasion.

The enforced outlook was directed at The Enemy, but it wasn't too much of a surprise to his trainers when his attitude spread to potential allies too. As a result, he was quite possibly the least prejudiced person on the planet. For the support techs used to being on the receiving end of various jabs or slurs or outright hostility from the less accepting operatives, working with him was a breath of fresh air (cigarettes and unnecessary roughness aside). True, Snake might get annoyed, might lash out in frustration, but the insults were never personal unless they were pointing out genuine incompetence. It's why all the techs who made it through the rocky adjustment period would gladly come in on their day off if he needed support for a mission, and why they took a personal interest in his safety. Those who didn't make it through the gruffness hated him, of course, but it's not as if he cared. There were a handful of techs who would work with him, deal with working with him, and sometimes even genuinely like the bad-tempered chain-smoker. Most operatives couldn't trust _anyone_ to watch their backs, but he could. More than once he'd heard someone complaining about being stuck with a woman tech and give silent thanks to the people who made sure he didn't have that problem.

Never had his non-discriminatory view been more of an asset to his survival than at Shadow Moses. It helped when facing Sniper Wolf, but it was the ability to disregard the fact that he and Liquid had the same DNA that kept him from hesitating when it mattered most. However, what _really_ saved his life was his unprejudiced view on who qualified as an ally. It's why he didn't just kill or knock out the terrified programmer when he first saw him, and it was only with Otacon's help that he was able to succeed in his mission to stop Rex and save Meryl. Granted, he'd never been able to shake the masculine pride that stung at accepting help from a man so clueless he hadn't realized he was building a walking nuclear death-machine, and, combined with the stress that he hadn't bothered suppressing, he'd been rougher than usual on the other man. However, Otacon was one of the people that stuck through adjustment and ended up being the best help that Snake had ever had. Even with the mangled proverbs and constant prattle about anime and the dangers of nicotine.

It was months since they started working together after it became apparent that no wave nor wire was safe enough to plan detailed missions over. Otacon was the one who suggested that he travel with Snake to protect the sanctity of cover. The fact that the programmer would put his life on the line, sitting in a room close to the mission instead of safely hidden a couple states away. After a couple weeks of living with the hacker it became apparent that the other man had changed more than Snake originally thought. Most notably, he'd finally grown some semblance of a spine and was more aware of the concept of cause and effect. The babble about this or that amazing anime was still there, but he was still the best help Snake had ever had. He found himself trusting the other man on a personal level, as a friend, and it wasn't long at all before they'd gone from Otacon and Snake to Hal and David.

It was a mission that brought about Hal's confession. David could have gotten in to the compound without a distraction, but it would be a big help and save a lot of time. When the initial recon revealed that the guard who worked that shift was gay, Hal had blushed and shifted uncomfortably and blurted out that he was bisexual. David's reaction, or lack thereof, wasn't entirely unexpected by the programmer. Still, it was a relief when all the mercenary did was seamlessly move on with the mission plan. Later, while waiting for an exit opportunity, he started a verbal sparring match via codec over the girly way Hal had twirled his hair around a finger while flirting with the man. The generally friendly argument extended to the post-mission pass of information, where Hal insisted that he'd never be such an obvious flirt if it wasn't for a mission, and David asked in as innocent a voice as he could muster (which wasn't that innocent) if the hacker had found the guard attractive. Hal made a face and mumbled something about what's shampoo and David had laughed, not his usual dry chuckle but real laughter.

A couple days later he thanked David for not making a big deal out of it. The mercenary shrugged and responded that he'd never cared about someone's sexuality, or anything else, and especially not when it came to good help. He added that Hal wasn't even the first to come out to him; one of his earliest techs had also mumbled his way through a confession. The mercenary hadn't been in contact with him since he retired, for security, and out of curiosity Hal Googled him. It turned out he was a professor at an engineering college, a strong advocate for gay rights and acceptance, and had married the man David had pointed out to him to when they still worked together. Upon reading that the mercenary asked Hal if he wanted a matchmaker and Hal responded that he'd have to fall for someone who wouldn't mind a cosplay proposal and that David probably didn't know anyone who fit that description.

Over the next few months there were more confessions on both their parts. David told Hal things he'd never even told Meryl, Hal told David things he'd never even told his old psychiatrist. It all accumulated one night over a shared glass of whiskey in the back of the truck that was serving as their mobile base. They were out in the middle of nowhere in the Nevada desert, parked out on the sand far enough from the road that no one would spot the beat up Ford as they passed. The whiskey was mostly to give them the fortitude to sleep on a pile of blankets in the bed of the truck on a cold desert night, but the few swallows were enough to help the two men tell each other their deepest, darkest fears and the secrets that went with them.

David feared losing his grip on right and wrong the way so many, Big Boss included, seemed to have done. Even though he put practically no stock in blood-ties and destiny, he couldn't shake the fact that the Boss, Liquid, and Solidus had all fallen to corruption. What if he was just a 'late bloomer' in the betrayal game? He worried that some day Raiden would have to face his wayward 'uncle' and complete the pattern that this 'family' seemed to have of killing each other, or maybe the kid would be the one to turn away first. Or maybe they'd both remain true to the cause and it wouldn't matter anyway because they'd be slaughtered by Ocelot or The Patriots or some nameless lucky shot before atoning for the sins of the father. He worried about going senile before hitting his fortieth birthday and not being able to care anymore.

Hal had admitted that he really didn't want to get into a real relationship, and that might have been the reason that he attached himself to people like Sniper Wolf, people that he knew would never even truly acknowledge him. That way he was safe from explanations about how he sometimes balked at sex and sometimes jump at intimacy before the relationship was ready for it. How he hated his stepmother and he loved her, and he loathed himself for both emotions. How he had always known it wasn't normal but said nothing because it felt good. How he loved kids but was terrified to be around them out of the fear that he would do to them what she had done to him.

It was difficult for both of them to say what they said, and the next day there was a sense of unease that hadn't been there since they first started working together. However, once the awkward fog had lifted they were both glad they'd shared that part of themselves with each other. Once the big things were out in the open the little things came so much easier, and they were an even better team than before.

David was surprised to find he _wasn't_ surprised the first time he caught himself looking at his partner a little bit longer than was necessary, despite the fact he'd never found himself even remotely attracted to another man. After some soul searching he figured that the non-discriminatory training took a little deeper than he thought and easily accepted the fact that he was attracted to Hal. It was hard to ignore with the way his eyes would wander up the lines of his partner's neck and across his features, especially if he was concentrating on a particularly difficult segment of code or video game. The more he watched the programmer the more he realized how _good_ Hal looked, and the more they talked and interacted the more he was reminded that he'd never trusted anyone more.

Still, aside from submitting to the urge to trace the programmer's body with his eyes, he never acted on his desires. He knew that going there was dangerous; they needed a stable relationship or they'd never survive the missions. However, what really stopped him was knowing that he'd only hurt Hal if he started hinting at his attraction. If the feeling was mutual then he'd have to wait until Hal was ready to make the first move, and even then it was iffy if either of them would ever be ready for it. David resigned himself to only looking. That was good enough for him. He was sure he could handle it. He knew better, but that's what he told himself.

With the increasing amount of time David spent looking at his partner, it wasn't long before he started noticing Hal looking back. He'd walk out of the bathroom shirtless as he toweled off his hair and catch the faint blush spreading across Hal's cheeks, something that the hacker had gotten over in the first couple months of traveling together. Touches that lasted just a second too long to go unnoticed. When accommodations were sparse and they were forced to share a hotel bed, they always ended up sleeping a little closer than was necessary.

Eventually it got to the point where both men knew how the other felt, even that the other knew how they felt. They also knew how dangerous it would be, to themselves and to the mission, if they gave in to temptation. If things went bad then it would strain their working relationship. If things went perfectly then it would still interfere. If the enemy ever found out then they would go after Hal to get to David... the list went on. So they slept too close and let their eyes wander and pretended they didn't know what the other was thinking.

And that was good enough. At least, that's what they told themselves.

"All right then Mr. Kay, could you please grip this for me?"

David barely suppressed the urge to growl at the physical therapist as he accepted the gadget. He squeezed the handle lightly (for him) and the therapist cooed at the amazing progress he'd made. The mercenary kept reminding himself that this man was used to treating whiny teenagers and housewives, not soldiers with nanomachines helping him heal.

He was found in a twisted mass of steel on the side of a lonely desert highway. If some roughneck hadn't stayed late at the rig, he'd have bleed out before anyone would have found him. They didn't know about his incredible resilience or the nanos, but they were still right. He'd spent two weeks in a coma and another fading in and out of consciousness. Now a month after the crash he was into physical therapy that he didn't need and rapidly losing his patience.

They hit a damn _cow_. He survived walking nukes and more eccentric sociopaths than he cared to remember, and it was dim headlights and a damn _cow_ that nearly killed him. They slammed into it and spun off the road and the passenger side slammed into an oil derrick. The driver's side was bent and the door had come off, but nothing that couldn't be survived.

David sunk into the bed with relief when they told him that. Hal was driving; he was busy bleeding all over the floorboards. The mission had been a rough one and they had to ditch all of their gear except for Hal's laptop, which the cops found destroyed at the crash. They went on about the physics of the crash and how lucky he was to survive until he fought through the drugs and demanded to know what happened to the driver.

No one else was found at the crash. Just David, the cow, and a broken pair of wire frame glasses.

He shut down after that. To avoid the questions and talking to people, he faked amnesia. They found his bloody drivers license of the day and ran a search on this 'Michael Kay,' finding what amounted to nothing. Foster kid with no family, no real ties, working construction, the usual for his aliases. They tried counseling him, but all he ever 'remembered' was what the driver looked like and that they should be out there _looking for him_. The shrink came to the conclusion that the loss of quite possibly the only person he truly cared about had sent him into shock and pushed the cops to find where the bloody footprints leading away from the crash ended, but they lost the trail. The mysterious driver with no name and no glasses could have wandered anywhere, been picked up by someone who exploited his injury, dragged off by wild animals, any number of bleak, stomach churning possibilities.

By the time they told him this over three weeks had passed. If Hal didn't get picked up, he was dead. There was no way anyone could survive that long in the New Mexico summer without water. If he was picked up before dehydration or blood loss took him out, then he was at the mercy of his savior's disposition. David had seen too many apathetic or downright cruel Average Joes in his time, but he still help out hope. A few years ago he would have counted his tech as lost and move on with a plan to get the hell out of the hospital. Before Shadow Moses. Before he started _looking_ at his partner in that particular way.

The therapist left to tend to his other clients and David had a few minutes alone. Relatively speaking, of course, since they had the possibly unstable amnesia patient under video surveillance. Still, no one was breathing his air so he felt slightly more at ease and able to think clearly.

His leg was messed up in the crash. He never realized how spoiled he was on nanomachine injections to take care of injuries until this one had to heal more or less on his own. At a month he could put his full weight on it, but he needed to be able to sneak out of the surprisingly tight security of the hospital's psyche wing. Nothing he couldn't handle, of course, but he didn't need his leg giving out on him while avoiding cameras and staff. As soon as he was sure he could get out without getting caught and ending up strapped to a bed in the locked ward he was gone, and he was going to find Hal. Even if all he found was a body, he would find his partner.

He allowed himself to drift off to unpleasant dreams. It wasn't secure, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. Plus, the more rest he got the quicker he'd heal and the sooner he'd be out of there. He dozed for about three hours before the day nurse came in. She was a bigot and slightly snobby but otherwise acceptable, especially compared to the physical therapist. However, after the latest nightmare he didn't feel like talking to anyone. He wanted to get up and just run, a brute force retreat, but he knew he wouldn't get far without having to hurt someone. The hospital gown wouldn't help much once he got out of the building either. So he ignored her and pretended to sleep while she checked his vitals.

Just as she was about to leave, there was a gentle knock at the door. David recognized the soft footsteps of the only doctor he liked at this hospital.

"Angela, how is he?"

"Stable and asleep."

"Hmm... he gets so little rest; perhaps I should come back later."

David opened his eyes. "I'm up."

The old man smiled at him while the nurse looked a little miffed.

"What is it you need, Doc?"

"Well, Michael, there's a chance we've found something that'll jog your memory. I can't make any promises though."

"I understand, Doc."

"Doc_tor_ Jones," the nurse cut in with emphasis, "will you be needing my assistance?"

"Stay for a moment, just to be safe." He turned towards the door and made a beckoning motion.

David stopped breathing.

It was Hal.

He was wearing clothes that had to come from the Salvation Army clearance rack and a pair of thick plastic frame glasses that looked horrible on him. There was a fresh scar slicing through his left eyebrow and across his cheekbone. He was trembling as he took slow, shaky steps towards the man lying in the hospital bed. David could see the worry and guilt in his partner's eyes. Worry that he really had amnesia and guilt over being the driver.

"I... Mike? Th-they told me you forgot everything, but I'm Sam." He laid his hand on David's. "After the crash, I wandered down the highway for help, but I had a concussion and... I... god, I'm so s-sorry, I was the one d-driving and-"

"No," came the low, rough murmur. The mercenary tugged on the other man's shirt. As the other man stepped closer David slid his arm around the skinny waist.

The programmer's eyelids lowered a fraction and he licked his lips. "D..." he stopped himself and reached out to caress David's cheek, "Michael?"

"So, do you know him?" the nurse asked with a tone of distain, trying to interrupt their moment. She was mostly unsuccessful.

"I know him," David replied without breaking eye contact with his partner. He didn't want to fight it any more, not after all that time spent with an ache in his gut as his imagination supplied visions of all the ways Hal could have died in the desert. He pulled the hacker closer. "He's my boyfriend."

Surprise flashed across Hal's face before a warm blush and smile settled across his features. He turned so he could sit on the edge of the bed and David slid both his hands up the hacker's back. Hal tangled his fingers in the other man's hair and hesitantly pressed their lips together. When there was no negative reaction, the programmer laughed and peppered David's cheeks and jaw with feather light kisses. David was too busy swimming in relief to do much except hold his partner.

This time the nurse succeeded in breaking the moment as she stormed out of the room, even going so far as trying to slam the hydraulic door. The two men in the bed looked up to see the doctor standing there with an eyebrow raised and an unreadable expression. Hal blushed dark with the embarrassment of being watched. David's grip on his partner tightened; he knew that a fair number of the people in this town were intolerant to homosexuality. However, after a few moments of studying them, the doctor chucked and cracked a smile.

"Well then, boys, I'll leave you alone for fifteen minutes. Sam, I'll go get that paperwork you needed, and Michael, you promise you'll get to a therapist as soon as you two get home."

"... What?"

The old man waved over his shoulder. "Just because I'm tolerant doesn't mean the rest of the town is. As soon as you've paid you can, and should, leave. Angela's a bit of a gossip."

With those abrupt parting words, the doctor left, making sure the door was firmly shut on his way out. Hal stared after him for a minute before turning back to his partner with his eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry," and there it was, the old self-depreciating tone. "This is all my fault."

"This one's on the car and the _damn_ cow," David growled as he yanked the other man down against his chest. He buried his nose in the programmer's hair and breathed. Hal shifted, trying to get a stable position on the edge of the bed. When that failed there was a scant moment's pause before he climbed onto the bed and straddled the mercenary's thighs. David didn't have long to contemplate this forward behavior before Hal was kissing him again, this time with an unspoken and hungry insistence that he open his mouth.

Their first kiss was sloppy with desperation, but neither of them cared. They clung to each other until the need for air made Hal pull away gasping. David took the opportunity to taste the neck he'd been eyeing for months and the hacker's twisted to the side as he panted for breath.

"Ohhh... Da--Mike-- I..." Hal nudged the other man's chin up and turned the tables. "David," he breathed into the mercenary's neck, "don't let me go to fast," a nip to the juncture of the shoulder, "please?"

"I don't -- uhn -- think I'll be too good at that."

"Mmmmm," Hal lifted his head and kissed David on the mouth, "I was hoping you'd say that."

All too soon the doctor's polite yet pointedly loud knock broke them apart. David got dressed as Hal signed the bill over to one of Philanthropy's dummy accounts and they were out the door and on the road thirty minutes later, only taking the time to stop for gas. That evening in a cheap hotel room they finished what they started in the hospital, though not before discussing the dangers and boundaries of this relationship. David's conscious kicked in during the drive and demanded that he make damn sure he did keep Hal from going to fast, but after a lot of arguing the hacker convinced him that they were so comfortable with each other that they could skip that nonsense.

In the warm afterglow, with Hal pressing lazy, sated kisses along his jaw, David wondered what he was so worried about. Of course, the afterglow had that kind of effect on a person, even legendary soldiers. Still, they had this chance for comfort in the eye of the hurricane, so why shouldn't they take it? Everything they did was dangerous, so what was a little more if the benefits were _this_ good?

Besides, after seeing how good it could be, there was no way they could go back to telling themselves that anything less was enough.


End file.
